Your birth, Yuval, was difficult and in those days, like today, distraught fathers are asked to leave the delivery room.  When things started to get complicated, your dad waited outside, chewing his nails, fighting the desire to break in and pull you out himself.

You appeared when you felt it was right.  Dad went in to the delivery room.  As soon as he saw you, he understood the meaning of “love at first sight”, a simple look conveying the depth of the bond.

You resembled him in your physical characteristics, as well as in gestures and expressions.

You strode aside each other, like two models of the same thing. One large and one small.

It was heart warming to look at both of you and to marvel at the wonders of genetics.

The immediate love, the physical resemblance and all sorts of secret spices wrought between you a special, unique and extremely deep bond.

You loved to talk, to discuss things important, more important and the simple everyday routine things, too.

You also had the ability and skill to enjoy silence together. Never awkward, always comfortable. Sometimes silence says more than words.

You went on trips together and conquered the country, in the full and true meaning of the word. You accumulated a rich repertoire of experiences in tandem, and you had the ingenuity to communicate in special codes, a twist of the lips, a wink, a gesture, a clue.

You were pals, but Yuval – you knew your place in this relationship, and you were in the position of the receiver, eliciting inspiration, thirsting for knowledge. This was a meeting of souls.

All throughout basic training, Dad used to drive to wherever it took, so that you should not hitch-hike. This way he guarded you from external dangers, and in doing so he gained precious moments and hours of togetherness with you.

There was so much more to say, to do, to live…

When Dad took his leave from you at the funeral, he thanked you “for 19 years of being my friend”. So said he. He was not supposed to have said that, for it is not natural. A father is not supposed to bury his son.

Now he touches you through memories, through visions that flash before his eyes, through the sounds of your speech and laughter that he plays to himself in his imagination, and through all sorts of private ingredients that are shared only by the two of you.

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